


Lehnsherr's Laundromat

by ivyness



Series: AU Yeah August 2018 [5]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Laundromat, M/M, Ugly Sweaters, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyness/pseuds/ivyness
Summary: Erik runs a laundromat and Charles has ugly sweaters. That's it. That's the plot.





	Lehnsherr's Laundromat

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for allusions to abusive households

Charles was wet with tears and rain and blood when he stumbled into the laundromat. 

It was Charles’s first time in Lehnsherr’s Laundry. It was his first time in a laundromat period. But he was cold and shaky and wanted a pair of warm, clean clothes like he wanted air, like he wanted to be free of the Westchester estate. 

His family would never think to find him here. For now, he was safe.

Shivering with cold, Charles looked around at the rows of laundry machines, finding comfort in their easy hum. The place seemed surprisingly bright and spacious, if a little industrial. The stark white walls and floor were a sharp contrast to the chaos of color of the machines. 

No two were exactly alike and while most were white or chrome there were a handful in bright reds, soothing greens and even one in yellow. He couldn’t be sure that they were all for laundry. 

Charles headed towards the nearest one, a cold gray mammoth of a machine and poked at some of the buttons to try to figure out how it worked. It didn’t look like something that would clean his clothes. It looked like someone had squashed a washboard and stretched it out until it was longer than the span of his arms. 

Charles pulled off his sweater, wincing as he strained his aching ribs. He cautiously tried to push his sweater between the machine’s rolling pins, hoping the thing would start on its own. He’d never done laundry before but he was sure it couldn’t be that difficult.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

Charles jumped, dropping his dripping sweater as a large, angry man emerged from the shadows of the doorway leading into the back. 

“Wet clothes shouldn’t be put in the ironing press,” the man frowned, wrinkles forming on his tall, proud forehead. “And you’re getting my floor wet,” he nodded to the floor where Charles’s sweater lay.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Charles said, embarrassed as he gingerly picked up his sweater and hugged it tight to his chest. 

“I’m - my name is Charles,” he stumbled, and held out his dripping wet hand. He quickly took it back to wipe on his equally wet jeans, before holding it out again with a lopsided smile. “Sorry, I can’t quite figure out how to clean my sweater.”

“Clearly.” the man snorted, not taking Charles’ proffered hand. Charles retracted his hand, smile trembling and sheepish.

The man continued to let Charles drip on his floor a moment more before sighing and meeting his eyes. “Erik.” he offered before turning on his heel and heading towards the back again, beckoning with his hand, “Come.”

Charles followed Erik into the back room. The only light came from a small desk lamp which illuminated a table holding the guts of some sort of device, meticulously taken apart. Blueprints decorated the wall and were piled up neatly next to a large filing cabinet. Clear, labelled bins of gears and gadgets were stacked up to the ceiling. Charles noted the rumpled cot pushed up tight in the corner, the one spot of messiness in the whole room. Charles had clearly just woken Erik up.

Erik leaned down and pulled another clear plastic bin out from underneath his cot. He rummaged around a bit before pulling out a long sleeves shirt and jeans, handed them to Charles and walked out front again. 

Grateful, Charles quickly changed into the dry clothes and when he was done, he gathered up his wet things and followed Erik out front. The man in question knelt in front of the ironing press, mopping up the puddle that Charles had left on the floor. Charles walked over, trying not to trip on the too long legs of his borrowed pants.

Erik stood and pulled Charles’ wet clothes from his hands, moving over to a small, bright red machine. It looked a lot easier to use than the gray behemoth Charles had tried to feed his sweater to. 

Erik paused, inspecting the bundle of clothes in his hands and even with just a quick glance he could tell that each piece probably cost more than the machine that would be washing them. He glanced over at Charles, trying to see if Charles would make a fuss over the rough treatment of his clothes. 

Charles just smiled guilelessly and Erik shrugged, pulling pieces from the pile to toss in the mouth of the laundry machine.

He frowned over Charles’ lumpy wool sweater, staring at the brown and browner plaid with raised eyebrows and even Charles could admit the sweater looked quite unflattering in the harsh light of the laundromat. Charles shifted on his feet as Erik’s sharp eyes landed on the small stain of blood on the side of the sweater, eyes flickering over to Charles. Charles casually turned his bruised side away and met Erik’s eyes defiantly.

Erik shrugged and started the wash.

********

It was another week before Charles could make it back to Lehnsherr’s Laundry. He’d officially moved out of the Westchester house into a small apartment of his own and his first experiment with cooking had gone...not well.

Erik found Charles in front of the same bright red washing machine as last time, staring mournfully at the crusty yellow stain on his sweater. It was a drab grey monstrosity with dark green triangles heavily dotting the chest and arms. Erik thought the yellow stain certainly couldn’t make the thing look worse than it already did.

Erik!” Charles greeted enthusiastically, his blues eyes bright. Erik stared as Charles mused his already ruffled, soft brown hair. “I’m afraid I had a misshap with the frying pan my friend. Is there any way you can help me figure out how to remove this stain?”

Erik would have much rather burned the atrocious thing. Instead, he took the sweater from Charles’ hands and walked to the stack of shelves along the far wall. He pulled down a bottle, spraying the stain with a white mist before walking back to the washing machine and tossing it in. 

“Thank you Erik.”

Erik stared at Charles’ blindingly earnest smile before curtly nodding and stalking away. Charles could see the tips of Erik’s ears turning a bright red

************

The next time Charles came in, his hands were covered in bandaids and he was holding a musty-looking sweater with alternating zig-zagging lines of purple, blue, and yellow. It was covered in poorly patched holes. Erik couldn’t tell if the lines were zig-zagging because it was the original design or because of how badly the holes had been sewn shut.

Erik hesitated. This was not his job. He ran a laundromat. He was a proud business owner and repairing the sweaters of hapless rich kids was 100% not his job. Charles looked at him hopefully, blue eyes blinding and smiling lips an utterly ridiculous shade of pink.

Erik snatched the sweater from Charles and stalked into the back room where he kept his personal sewing kit. Erik spent the next hour teaching Charles how to sew.

************

A month passed and Charles continued to go to the laundromat. Every week he came in with another of his garish sweaters impossibly stained or in need of repair.

It was getting a bit ridiculous. Erik was starting to think that Charles ruined his sweaters on purpose because there was no way anyone was that much of a klutz.

Erik hovered near the back and when Charles saw him, he waved, a big smile on his face. Charles wore a baby blue sweater which Erik noted, brought out the color in his eyes. It had colorful helixes of DNA running across it and Erik absolutely, 100% did not think it was cute. 

Charles had another of his impossibly hideous sweaters tucked in the crook of his elbow and one of its arms hung impossibly low to the ground. Erik had no idea how he would fix that mess.

In his other hand Charles carried a box from the pastry shop across the street. 

“I thought we could share some sweets,” Charles called as he made his way over when it became clear that Erik had no intention of coming out of hiding.

Erik watched, transfixed as Charles bumped into Ms. Pryde and as he turned to apologize profusely, collided into the dryer on his right, only to spin and deftly catch his balance. As he glanced over at Erik with a wry twist of his lips his foot caught on the overstretched arm of his sweater and flailing, he fell to the floor.

“Oh my gosh, Charles!” exclaimed Ms. Pryde, running over to help.

Erik felt the same way. He looked down bewildered to see that he’d also rushed over to Charles’s side. Ms. Pryde stared at him cryptically before smiling and turning to Charles. Erik rolled his eyes, too many people had started smiling at him. 

When Charles pushed himself upright, laughing self-consciously, Erik noted the frosting smeared across the DNA lining Charles’s sweater. Okay, Erik concluded, maybe Charles was exactly that much of a klutz.

Erik stared as Charles pulled off the soiled sweater, his tight, white undershirt riding up. He could tell that Ms. Pryde was laughing at him but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

************

The first week Charles didn’t show up, Erik adamantly refused to feel lonely. The second week Erik started getting worried. The third week he’d been on the verge of rampaging through the town when he saw a gorgeous blond stranger walk into his Laundromat. 

He only gave her a quick once over before his attention was caught on her bundle of ugly, oversized wool sweaters. 

Calmly he walked over and picked one of them up, ignoring her indignant “Excuse you!” Dried blood stained a baby blue sweater lined with colorful helixes of DNA.

Erik wanted to rip her blonde head off. 

He satisfied himself with grabbing her collar and slamming her up against the line of washing machines. “Where’s Charles.”

“Who’s asking?” she answered, digging her nails in sharply to the underside of his wrist and grinding her exceedingly high, ridiculously sharp heels into his foot.

Erik grit his teeth and refused to loosen his grip. “If you so much as looked at him the wrong way I swear-”

“Uh, men!” She exclaimed, shoving Erik. Before Erik could start again she continued, “You must be Erik. I don’t know what Charles sees in you, growling and grunting like a caveman. And Charles is fine by the way he can take care of himself. He just - ” she breathed, rallying herself, “He had to go back. To Westchester. To pick me up and help me move out.”

Erik could feel anger and worry warring inside him and he felt a dull aching in his chest.

“Where is he?” and his voice sounded hoarse and not nearly as intimidating as he would have liked. She stared at him for a long moment and Erik tried not to fidget beneath her assessing gaze. “Come on,” she nodded at the door and left Charles’s sweaters behind, safe in the knowledge that no one would want to steal something so ugly. “I’m Raven, by the way, Charles’ sister,” she said, tossing her long blond hair over her shoulder and smiling meanly. 

The walk to Charles’ apartment was quiet and tense. Erik had never been to Charles’ apartment and with every step he’d become increasingly aware of the fact that Charles had never invited him over. He was not sure how Charles would react to a stranger coming into his space whether or not his supposed sister invited them.

Erik was surprised at the apartment Raven lead him to. It was a squat looking four story walk up in not the nicest of neighborhoods. Charles’ apartment was on the top floor and as Raven let them both in she called, “Charles, next time you’re doing your own laundry. Your boyfriend is a psycho. Also he’s come to visit you.”

There was a loud crash from further inside the apartment and the sound of running feet as Charles tripped into view. Erik let out a sigh of relief at the sight, before his gaze landed on the shallow cut on Charles’s cheek and his splotchy black eye and he felt himself go rigid with rage at whoever would do that to Charles.

Charles saw Erik’s anger and sighed, leaning against the wall, rubbing at the hole in his sock with his other foot. He was wearing a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants and too big glasses that made his eyes bug out and highlighted the bags under his eyes. Erik had never seen a more beautiful human being.

“Why don’t you come in,” Charles offered.

Erik looked around at Charles’ messy apartment. Plates and coffee mugs stacked in the sink, clothes strewn on the floor and piled on the couch. Unpacked boxes took up every inch of unused space. 

Erik thought about the cot in the back of his laundromat. The room painstakingly tidy. And his own apartment that he hadn’t been back to in months, the place pristine and basically untouched.

Erik glanced at Raven. She was glaring daggers at him, hovering protectively over her brother, practically daring him to say no to Charles. And he looked at Charles, who looked so small without his sweaters and who saw Erik looking and smiled brilliantly back at him.

Erik walked inside, “Thank you for having me.”


End file.
